


the last of the real ones

by akosmia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, More fluff than you'd expect, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akosmia/pseuds/akosmia
Summary: "You walked all the way here under the rain without even a spell to protect yourself just so you could ask your estranged uncle, whom you hate very much and wished dead several times even in my presence, an advice on a ritual?" He doesn't reply, and his cheeks turn crimson under her gaze, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the wall behind her. "Are you fuckingkidding me?"He clenches his jaw, finally lowering his gaze on her.If looks could kill, Rey thinks, but still - there's a hint of red on his cheeks, and she doesn't know if he's angry or embarrassed."I can assure you I'm not".-- or: Ben and Rey are the only ones in town with powers, and they hate each other. Except they don't, not really.





	the last of the real ones

**Author's Note:**

> hello there, welcome to my halloween fic!  
> this is honestly the silliest, most ridiculous thing i've ever written. I originally had planned another fic with this concept, but it was way more serious and a little bit darker than this, and it required a lot of plot and backstory I couldn't really focus on right now with uni kicking my ass, so this happened instead and i hope you like it anyway :D

When Ben Solo appears at her - well, Luke's - door in the middle of a storm, Rey thinks he has definitely lost his mind, or he's here to kill her once and for all.

Her hands crackle with electricity as she eyes him - wet clothes, water running down his hair onto his face, his gaze resolutely fixed on something behind her as his damp flannel shirt clings to his body and the wind makes a mess out of his dark strands - and she idly wonders if she should electrocute him and slam the door on his face, but the almost vulnerable expression on his features makes her linger for a moment and she raises an eyebrow, dispelling the energy around her fingers.

"Are you lost?" she asks him, in the end, even gently for her standards.

Surprisingly, Ben Solo laughs. Well,  _ laughs _ is a big word - he exhales loudly, and a small puff of breath comes out of his lips, his shoulders shaking just barely even if Rey doesn't know if it's from the effort or from the cold.

"No," he says, shaking his head. The gesture sends a few droplets of rain around, and she takes a step back to avoid a shower she doesn't need right now. The porch of Luke's house is drenched in water where Ben stands, his clothes darker from the rain, and stuck to his body in a very revealing way. She tries not to look at him too much. "Can I talk to Luke? I want his advice on a ritual".

Her eyebrows shoot even higher on her forehead in disbelief. "You walked all the way here under the rain without even a spell to protect yourself just so you could ask your estranged uncle, whom you hate very much and wished dead several times even in my presence, an advice on a ritual?" He doesn't reply, and his cheeks turn crimson under her gaze, his eyes stubbornly fixed on the wall behind her. "Are you fucking  _ kidding _ me?"

He clenches his jaw, finally lowering his gaze on her.  _ If looks could kill _ , Rey thinks, but still - there's a hint of red on his cheeks, and she doesn't know if he's angry or embarrassed.

"I can assure you I'm not".

She brings her eyes on him again, standing in the doorway with a curious expression, pressing her lips together and pretending to think about it. "Why don't you ask Snoke?"

He groans, throwing his head back in a childish gesture and splashing water around, because - well, because he's Ben Solo and he'd be like that sometimes, apparently.

"Because I need Luke's help, can you please,  _ please _ , for the love of everything that's holy, let me in?"

There's a moment of silence in which they both realize he's  _ pleading _ her and he sounds almost desperate and it's the first time he has made himself so vulnerable in front of her since they have first met a year ago and immediately disliked each other (and actively tried to out-annoy or kill each other). Another blush spreads on his face and he lowers his gaze on his feet, as if deeply fascinated by the sight of them. He doesn't look like the Ben Solo she has learned to know in these months - he looks like a bashful puppy who just got kicked.

Rey sighs, knowing a lost battle when she sees one. She'd like to tease him about that, but he must really be desperate to plead her, so she just limits to press her lips together and move away from the doorway, as if to invite him in.

"Luke isn't here," she informs him, and he groans again, splashing water around and turning as if he wanted to leave. "But you can wait for him inside the house!" she adds, quickly.

He stops abruptly, staring at her in disbelief.

"If you want. I mean, you're already here, it's not worth it to walk under the rain again,” she explains, her voice strangely high-pitched. “It's not like you have to stay, I'm not saying that, but you don't have to walk-"

_ How come that there isn't a spell that prevents you from talking when you're embarrassing yourself? I should work on it. _

"Rey," he murmurs. His voice is deep, and lacks of the usual teasing tone he reserves for her and only her - instead, he murmurs her name almost fondly. When she meets his gaze, he's already staring at her, and it's all surprisingly gentle, as it is the small smile on his lips. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that".

Her lips curve almost automatically in a matching smile, which is unusual, but she tries not to linger on it.

"You're welcome," she tells him, opening the door even more and welcoming him inside. He moves towards her, but she puts a hand on his chest, stopping him, and though they both blush (why is she  _ blushing _ , for God's sake?), she clears her throat and speaks as if nothing had happened and her hand wasn't still very pressed against his (very firm) chest. "Just, do something about all that, please. I don't want you dripping all over my couch," she adds, gesturing towards his wet clothes and pulling away from him, hastily.

He exhales loudly again, his shoulders shaking from amusement and from something she can't name, but that she can feel in the way his magic brushes against her, hesitantly. His eyes flutter shut for a second and he furrows his brow, and then - a light, warm breeze sweeps her hair as he steps inside, and his clothes are dry again, as if he hadn't been standing in the rain for the past ten minutes.

It's weird, to have him there - in the place she has learned to call home, or something like that since Luke has begrudgingly accepted her as his apprentice and welcomed her into his house. Ben's terribly tall, and looks definitely out of place in Luke's small cottage, reminding her of that bit from Alice's Adventure in Wonderland when Alice drinks something from a bottle and gets too big for the White Rabbit's house. His broad shoulders and long legs make him stand out against the tiny living room, and she can't help but glance his way more often than not.

It's not like she  _ wants _ to look at him. It's not like she finds him attractive. He's just weird, and  _ big _ , and he's in her house and it feels like he's everywhere. It doesn't mean anything, she repeatedly tells herself. 

He acts as if the place belonged to him - he crashes on the couch with a huff of breath and throws his head back on the cushions, splaying his long legs in front of the fireplace she had started before he knocked on her door. He hums, clearly pleased. "This feels nice," he says, burrowing into the couch and basking in the warmth. "I've been standing in the rain for, like, a lifetime".

Rey raises an eyebrow, as she looks at him, but she doesn't ask him about it, because she has learned the hard way that when it comes to Ben Solo, it's better to mind her own business and don't let him into her life more than necessary. The fact that he's currently sitting on her couch has nothing to do with her curiosity for him. It's just courtesy, even if he doesn't deserve it at all. Nothing more.

"Want a cup of tea?" she asks him, in the end. This is courtesy too, she tells himself, but she can't quite convince herself of that, because he's clearly surprised by this turn of events and stares at her as if she had just stabbed him to death and twisted the knife into the wound with grim satisfaction.

Which she would, if she could.

He clears his throat. "It depends," he replies, warily, eyeing her as if she could set fire to his clothes any moment now.  "Are you going to poison it?"

She shoots him what she hopes it's a death glare. "I wasn't, but I might consider it for doubting me".

Another huff of breath escapes his lips, and the tips of his ears turn crimson as he raises his hands in a plead for innocence. "Okay, fair enough. It's just ... you never gave me any reason for not doubting you," he says, shrugging. The light of the fireplace reflects in his deep, brown eyes, making them look like flames on his face. "You haven't exactly been kind to me".

A protest comes up on her tongue, but she can't even utter it, because it's true - because ever since they've met, all they have ever done is actively try to seriously maim each other, because the last time they'd been together in a room he had sported a cut on his lips and her hair had been turned into snakes and Luke had had to tear them apart before they retorted to fighting with their bare hands.

"Well, neither have you," she replies, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin, defiantly, because if she's going down, then like hell she isn't dragging him along with her.

His eyes are still fixed on her, and she doesn't dare to look away and a silence falls on them. It's charged, and intense as usual, his magic crackling like energy in the space between them, and she wonders if he's about to finally snap and kill her, but then he exhales and closes his eyes, throwing his head back on the couch as if terribly exhausted by all of it.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he murmurs, quietly, after a few seconds. Rey frowns in confusion, because Ben Solo had never been the one to yield first, at least not if he could avoid it, and had never been the one to apologize. She can't believe this is happening and probably neither can him, because he stays in silence for a few minutes, as if deeply stunned by his own behavior. Then, he shakes his head. "It's just- it's Snoke. He messes up with my head and ... I get like that. I know it's not an excuse for how I act, it's just- I  _ am _ sorry. Please, believe me".

He says it with the same intensity he carries around when they fight, but this time it's almost softer, his voice deeper and pleading at the same time. Rey has to stifle a gasp because he's being  _ vulnerable _ and she doesn't know how to react to this. She has never heard him talk about Snoke - his master, the one who's teaching him all about the magic that Luke calls  _ impure _ \- and she wonders why he's telling her all of this, if he's just messing with her or if he's serious.

She decides to believe him, for once. She can't exactly name a reason for it, but she trusts her gut, and instead of yelling at him or teasing him, she walks in silence, sits on the couch next to him and lets out a deep breath, trying to find the right words for this moment, under his eager gaze.

"Why do you let him get under your skin so much? Why are you even following him?" she asks him, softly. He turns his head to stare at her, wide eyes and parted lips, a surprised expression on his face. He doesn't recoil from her, which is. New. Weird.  _ Not so bad _ ,  _ after all. _ "He's- he's  _ evil _ . Sure, I joke about you being the devil incarnate, but- look, I won't say it again and you won't ever be able to prove I ever uttered these words, but you do deserve better".

There's another stunned silence, in which probably neither of them can believe this is really happening and she's talking to him like that. Then, he groans and throws his head back, the usual childish gesture she knows far too well, but that somehow makes her heart twist in her chest now. He looks so  _ young _ , like this, and so exposed and he's trusting her with it - with the notion of him being something other than the obnoxious man she's come to know.

It's weird, but it's not unpleasant. 

"It's complicated," he murmurs. His eyes flutter shut, his hand nervously rubbing his neck, his fingers threading through his hair.

_ No it's not, _ Rey wants to tell him,  _ you're either good or you're not _ , and maybe he half expects her to flare up like that, because he bounces his leg up and down in an anxious gesture. This, more than anything else, deflates her before she can even think about it. Ben has always been nervous, prone to anger, quick-tempered - but this is different. This is him, genuinely anxious, almost afraid.

Afraid of  _ her _ .

Out of instinct, she places a hand on his thigh, as if to stop his nervous movements. He stares at her as if she had just turned his internal organs into jelly, and she feels a fleeting thing pass between them - a crackle of electricity that burns her fingers in a pleasant way, just like her magic usually does.

She doesn't linger on it. "I just think you could do better than him," she whispers, just as softly as before, as if she was afraid of destroying this weird balance they have somehow found. When he doesn't reply, she lets her fingers slide down and curve around his knee, pressing gently into his bones as if to tether him to Earth. "You're not so bad, after all".

A faint pink appears again on his cheeks, and he gives the teasing smile she knows too well, but it's nicer than usual. There's a tenderness around him, humming softly in his magic, that wasn't there before, and this leaves her even more confused, heart fluttering in her chest.

"I should record this for future uses," he jokes, hesitantly.

It's so easy to laugh, and it should surprise her, but somehow it doesn't.

"You won't catch me repeat it ever again, Solo, not even if you put a spell on me," she tells him, and he presses his lips together and  _ pouts _ , just like the kid he is sometimes. She pats his thigh once, then moves her hand away, because it's starting to feel more important and significant than it actually is. "So, do you want that tea or not? I promise I won't poison it. If you behave".

"Yeah, okay," he replies, face still crimson. "Thank you".

She lets him chose the tea, then puts the tea bag in a mug and heats up the water with a wave of her hand, while he splays even further on Luke's couch and enjoys the warmth of the fireplace. When she brings him the mug, he smiles, as hesitantly as before, but with an ease that doesn't look out of place.

They wait together for Luke to come back. He teases her about her less fortunate spells, and she mocks him for the time she had turned his feet into fins and it feels weirdly intimate, familiar in a way it shouldn't be. The storm keeps raging on outside, and they're surrounded by the dull sound of the rain against the windows, and without realizing she inches closer to him, her body leaning into his warmth even if she keeps on telling herself it's not like she can suddenly stand him. He's still insufferable Ben Solo, and they're just talking and it doesn't mean anything, but she's starting to  _ enjoy _ his company by the time Luke walks into the living room and stares at the two of them in disbelief, and she will not admit it again, but she kind of feels sad because it's over.

They both blush, but Ben is quicker than her to recover - he raises to his feet and follows Luke out in the kitchen, mumbling something about a ritual, and Rey is left there, staring at the place where he had been up until ten seconds ago, and feeling weirdly disappointed, for reasons unknown.

*

It takes her a couple of days to muster up the courage to ask Luke about Ben, and she corners him at breakfast, as he's pouring hot water from his kettle into his mug (because, as he has put it, they don't need to abuse magic to make  _ tea _ ) and he's still trying to stifle a yawn as best as he can.

"What did your nephew want from you?" she asks him, blunt as always, because she has learned over time that she needs to be as direct as she can be with Luke, lest he avoids all her questions altogether. He raises his eyebrows, confused by her words, but she blames it on his sleepy state. "Last time he was here, he told me he needed to ask you about a ritual. What was all that about?"

Luke's eyes widen and he coughs as he brings the mug to his lip, taking a sip of his tea and staring at the wall in front of him with deep fascination. "Ah, yes, the ritual ... of course. The ritual," he repeats, staring at everything except for her. "Well, he wanted an advice on an advanced ritual, that's all. Nothing you have to worry about".

She frowns, pondering about it over her own cup of tea (made by heating up water with her magic, because, as she has put it, if she's got a gift, it's a crime not to use it) and hoping the hot beverage could give her some insight. When it's clear that her tea, while warm and delicious, is not a mean to enlightenment, she sighs and brings her eyes back on Luke again.

"Why hasn't he asked Snoke about it?" she asks, confused. "I mean, he's his apprentice, why did he come all the way here to ask  _ you _ about it?"

Luke's answer is a glimmer in the back of his eyes that she doesn't know how to decode, and a smirk that she has rarely seen on his old face. "I don't think he likes Snoke all that much".

"Well, he doesn't like you either," Rey is quick to remind him, because apparently he has forgotten about all the times Ben Solo has threatened his own uncle of terrible things. Not that she believes he'd actually  _ do _ all that, but still.

Luke's smirk grows even wider, and his eyes shine from something she can't name, as they settle on her. "I suppose it's not really about me, kid".

And, before she can ask him another question, he ducks out of the kitchen and leaves her there, sipping on her tea and wondering what was all that about.

*

A few weeks pass like this. 

Ben Solo disappears completely as he usually does, probably plotting world domination in the shadows, and she divides herself between her studies and spells and helping Poe at his café in her spare time. She's so busy she has barely the time to wonder about Ben's strange behavior - and his awkward, hesitant smile that seems to have taken hold of her thoughts recently -, so it fades from her mind, becoming a sort of background noise she doesn't pay much attention to, even if sometimes she catches herself thinking about his flushed ears and pink cheeks more tenderly than she usually would.

She doesn't linger on it, anyway.

She also doesn't think about his broad shoulders and long hair, and the way his face crooked in a smile, making his weird features fit together just  _ right _ . She does not.

It's only after a month that he resurfaces from the cave in which he has surely been hiding all this time, surprising her again.

It's night, and she's closing down Poe's café, even if she doesn't actually  _ work _ for him - but she thinks of this as a fair compensation for all the cupcakes and donuts and coffees he always showers her in and even if he tries to protest, she reminds him that she loves to help a friend when she can. She doesn't mention that he's probably one of her first friends ever.

She's locking the door with her magic - an old trick she picked up back in Jakku, when she was just a frightened kid and knew nothing about her powers, but knew enough to protect herself -, and she's ready to call it a night and walk home to Luke's when  _ he _ appears, as suddenly as ever.

It would have taken by surprise anyone else, but not her - she feels him approaching, the light brush of his magic against her mind. It's the most peculiar sensation, to have someone so attuned to her, to feel someone so deeply within her, and she wonders for a moment how he feels about it - if he hates it, if he longs for it. If he waits for the moment he can  _ feel _ her, as if to breathe her in, gasping for air. She doesn't know why they're so intertwined, sensations and feelings bouncing off them, tangling together in a messy heap of familiarity - she only knows she misses him when he's not around, and she kind of wishes she didn't.

"Hey," he says, quietly. His voice is deep as always and his eyes look like flames in the dark October night. There's something so weirdly intense about him - his face is half covered in shadows, half glimmering in the low glow of the streetlights, and he looks like some kind of ethereal being, a will-o'-wisp ready to lead her astray in the middle of an ancient forest. His eyes are deep brown where the light hits them, almost too intense for her liking, reminding her of a never-ending flame dancing in the approaching darkness.

She raises her eyebrows. "Can I help you?" she asks, shifting her weight from one foot to another. 

She feels awfully exposed, and she's reminded of the last time they were together - her hand on his knee, their smiles, their chatter, the domesticity of all of it. She can feel her cheeks burn under his gaze, but he's probably thinking about it too, because his face turns crimson and he gapes at her for a few seconds, before talking.

"I, uh," he says, eloquently. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously, and stares at his feet with rapt attention, as if deeply fascinated by their mystery. "I thought I could walk you home?"

Her eyebrows raise even higher on her forehead. "You waited in the shadows until now just to walk me home? You know how this sounds, right?"

" _ Fuck _ , no! I mean, I don't-" he interrupts himself, running a hand through his (very nice, very soft-looking) hair. "I'm not planning on  _ hurting _ you, for God's sake. I'm not  _ stalking _ you! I was going at Luke's anyway, and I thought you were there and- well, I know you can take care of yourself and you probably know how kill a man with your bare hands without even using your powers, but I thought I could walk with you, just in case, you know, and-"

She tries her best to stifle a giggle, as she watches him fumble with his words like a nervous teen, and something in her chest goes both soft and tight, and she can't explain why.

"Careful, Solo," she tells him, with a smirk, trying not to think about it. "If you weren't ... well, you, I'd say you're worried about me".

He opens his mouth. He closes it. He opens it again, and just stares at her, his face still weirdly crimson. She's starting to realize that, after a year of constant bickering, she has finally rendered him speechless and it feels strangely good and bad at the same time, because he's stuttering on his words but he looks so uncomfortable right now and she can  _ feel _ it, in the air around him.

Before she can say anything about it, he shakes his head. "Right. As if," he mutters, with a weird, nervous smile. "So? Can I walk you home?"

A silence falls on them as she tries to think about it. If he wanted to hurt her or kill her, he would already done it, she reasons with herself, even if she doesn't think he actually would, ever, despite how much he talks about destroying her and all that jazz. Besides, it's kind of pointless to tell him no, if he's going to Luke's anyway. It's not like she  _ wants _ him to walk her home. She doesn't want to, she doesn't enjoy his company, but it wouldn't make sense to tell him  _ no thank you very much I'll walk myself home _ , since he's going the same way.

And, for a moment, she can pretend he's actually worried about her.

Not that she wants him to be.

(She kind of does.)

"Okay," she replies, quietly.

He looks thoroughly shocked by this turn of events and stares at her with wide eyes and parted lips, and he looks so  _ nice _ like this, without the usual frown hardening his features, that her heart falters for a moment in her chest.

"Okay?"

This time, she doesn't stifle her giggle and laughs out loud, shaking her head in the process, and when she catches his gaze, he looks -  _ amazed _ , as if he was witnessing something incredible, a sunset over the ocean, an otherworldly spell she had just casted. It makes her shiver, even if she can't understand why.

"Okay," she repeats, smiling at him.

He doesn't hesitate anymore, and falls in step with her as they start walking toward Luke's place, in the chilly autumn evening. They stay in silence, awkwardly staring at the road in front of them, but sometimes Rey turns into his direction, stealing a glance at his tall frame, marveling at the fact that they're both there and they aren't trying to kill each other. She can feel his gaze on her, every now and then, and she wonders if he's thinking the same thing, or if he's just waiting for the right moment to strike.

"So," he says, after a few minutes, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans as if he wanted to keep himself from waving them around or nervously twist them. "You work for Poe?"

It takes her a few seconds to realize he's trying to make  _ conversation _ , which is the weirdest thing that has ever happened to her, but not entirely unpleasant. She glances his way again, and he's already staring at her, his eyes fixed on her face with the same fascination he has always shown only for magic and spells. He blushes when she catches his gaze, but doesn't turn away, and she feels her heart skip a few beats.

She tries not to think about it. "Not really, I just help him when I can," she replies, shrugging, with a little smile at the corner of her lips. His eyes never really leave her as they walk, and she can't really understand him, but it makes her shiver all the same, even if she tells herself it's just the cold. "You know Poe?"

It feels pointless to ask him that - this town is so small everybody knows everybody, in one way or another. But the thing is - she wants to know  _ him _ . She won't ever admit it again, but she longs for it, for the idea of knowing his history and his past, the corners of his soul that he has never shared with anyone else. She wonders if he can feel that, in the way her magic trembles around her, and if he feels the same way about her. 

He stays in silence for a few seconds, before replying, as if wondering if he could trust her with an answer.

"Yeah," he says, in the end, with a trembling voice. He sounds insecure, hesitant - almost pained, as if the idea of telling her the truth hurt him. "He used to be my best friend when we were kids, then he kind of got away when my powers became more ... well, unstable, I guess".

_ Oh _ . A stunned silence falls on them as she tries to recover from the surprise, but all she can think about is  _ oh _ , because it hits far too close to home for her tastes. She never imagined Ben Solo as a kid - but he must have been one, at some point in his life. A kid with big ears and a toothy grin and a mop of disheveled black hair who was best friends with Poe and got left behind when things got too difficult. For the first time since she has met him, she can actually  _ see _ him and her heart aches for that lonely kid who in her mind looks just like she did - alone and afraid and lost, with powers too big to contain and without a friend in the world.

_ Loneliness _ , she thinks,  _ makes companion of us all. _

"Oh," she says, quietly. "I am so sorry-"

He shrugs, just as quietly. It's weird for someone so tall to be also so silent and graceful, but he is, somehow, and it captivates her like a spell.

"No, it's okay," he replies, his voice still insecure, trembling on his lips. He avoids her gaze, staring resolutely at some point in front of him. "I mean, I don't blame him. I was a disaster waiting to happen back then. I didn't know how to control these powers and I was ... I don't know, too unbalanced. Dangerous, I suppose. He was right, in the end, and he had to protect himself".

It feels so easy and natural to stretch out her arm and place her hand on his clothed bicep, her fingers digging into the fabric of his plaid shirt. He looks so surprised, and when she catches his gaze he stares at her with big, vulnerable eyes that remind her of a spooked animal. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out of it, and she strokes his arm with her thumb, gently.

"Even if you were a disaster, you still didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve to be hated or left alone because of what you are," she reminds him, her words soft, barely above a whisper in the chilly October air. This is Ben Solo, her arch-enemy and the man who has made the last year of her life almost impossible with his constant teasing, but it feels so heartbreaking  _ normal _ to let herself soothe him, because no matter how obnoxious or irritating or annoying he can be sometimes, he’s still like her, and she knows what it means to be hated for something you can't control. "I am sorry".

He lets out a shuddering breath, staring at her with a vulnerable expression on his face. "Thank you for saying that," he breathes out, his voice barely a whisper too, and it's so intense, with the way he's staring at her, his eyes like flames in the darkness, but she's surprised to realize she likes it. His eyes fall on her hand, still placed on his arm, her thumb stroking his muscle back and forth in a calming gesture. "Careful, I might think you actually care about me," he adds, with a small, sad smile.

She scoffs, finally letting him go and starting walking again. "You're free to fool yourself as much as you like, Solo," she tells him, flashing him a smirk, but it feels less authentic because-

-because she  _ does _ care, in a way. In a weirdly intense and strangely real way that leaves her out of breath and makes her shiver and makes her heart go tight in her chest at the thought.

She clears her throat, trying not to think about it. "And, anyway, I might hate you, but I get it. I've been there too. Life is not easy on us, " she adds, quickly, hugging herself to prevent herself from reaching out to him again. "At least men don't get burned at the stake when they have powers".

Ben is too stunned to even reply and stops right in the middle of the road, staring at her in disbelief. " _ What the fuck _ -" he tries to say, gasping for breath. "Rey, you-?"

She likes the way he says her name, she thinks to herself. She tries not to linger on it, but she'd give almost anything to hear him say it again, and again, and again. Maybe because she doesn't want to linger on other memories.

"Not really, obviously," she reassures him, shaking her head. "I think they were probably too afraid of me to even try that, but sometimes ... well, things got bad, back in Jakku. They didn't try to burn me, but they did try to ... hurt me. It was before I even knew how to defend myself and I was just discovering my powers, but it was ... well, it wasn't nice".

When he doesn't reply, but just keeps on staring at her with an unreadable expression, she panics, because - because what if he'll look at her differently now? She couldn't stand it, not from him - he's the only one who has ever treated her as an equal. Not someone with powers, not someone to fear or hunt down or even worship - just Rey, with her flaws and her temper and her stupid jokes and only now she realizes how much it matters to her that he keeps on thinking of her like this, like the annoying girl who has repeatedly turned his hair pink and had transformed him into a bird once just out of spite.

"It doesn't matter, really," she tries to say, her voice weirdly high pitched, her words almost slurred together. "I learned very soon how to fight for myself and they were all too afraid of me to even try something else again, so really-"

" _ Fuck _ ," he says. His voice is thick with something that resembles emotion, and when she catches his gaze, his eyes are so intense they almost burn a hole through her soul, and she feels it in his magic - the way he's trying his best to stay still, fighting the urge to burn down the whole of Jakku, her orphanage obliterated and turned to dust. It makes her gasp and shiver, and it hits her in this moment that somehow, at some point during their rocky relationship, he has started to  _ care _ about her. "Rey, I'm so sorry, fuck, you didn't deserve any of that. You're-"

"It really doesn't matter, it's in the past and I don't really blame them, they were probably just afraid of something they didn't know and-"

"-so fucking  _ amazing _ and I hope you know how special you are," he finishes, his breath short, his chest rising and falling so quickly she can barely keep track of it. "And not because of your powers, but because of  _ you _ ".

The way he says it - so surely, with the same raw intensity about him that spills from his lips with his words - makes her shiver again and she looks up at him with parted lips, without knowing what to say, because what do you say to that? What do you say to your arch-enemy telling you how special, how amazing you are?

She doesn't think there's an answer for that.

"You're shivering," he points out, then, when she doesn't immediately reply. His cheeks are red again, and the tips of his ears are crimson and oh, oh,  _ oh _ , he looks so  _ nice _ , so human like this. She's so enthralled by him that she barely notices the fact that he's unbuttoning his shirt, only realizing it when she glimpses his fingers working open the buttons.

She blinks once, then twice. Then a third time. "Are you- undressing yourself?"

His eyes are fixed on the shirt and his hair falls on his face as he bends down, so she can't really see his expression, but his ears turn even redder as he lets out a little breathy laugh.

"Don't get your hopes up, Niima," he says, as he finally works open even the last buttons.

He proceeds to shimmy out of his plaid shirt, and she notices he's got a t-shirt underneath it. Right. He wasn't actually undressing himself. Her face turns as crimson as his ears, but she can't look away from him as he brings a hand to the shirt currently resting on his arm and closes his eyes. A warm breeze spreads from him, and then his eyes flutter open again, and he hands her his shirt. 

"Here," he says, pretty awkwardly.

Her fingers curve automatically against the plaid, but she raises her eyebrows, unsure of what is happening. "What the hell?"

He laughs, deeply this time, and for a moment she wonders if she has ever heard him laugh before - but no, she hasn't, and her heart decides it's the right time to start hammering like crazy in her chest. He looks so  _ nice _ , and his laughter resounds deeply within her.

"You're cold. Take it and wear it. I enchanted it so it will keep you warm," he says, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Like this, she can see how toned his arm actually is and she blacks out for a whole moment, not following his words at all. "I know you probably don't want anything of mine and you'd rather freeze to death than accept my help, but I just thought- well, you're cold".

_ What the hell _ , her mind repeats, because there's probably no appropriate reaction to Ben Solo stripping himself of his shirt just to give it to her because she's cold. She's not even sure she's actually cold - right now she feels on fire, and her face must be the worst shade of red imaginable, matching his stupid shirt, but she puts the shirt on anyway and-

\-  _ oh _ . He really has enchanted it, because the instant she pulls it on and starts to button it up, she feels so  _ warm _ , a pleasant sensation enveloping her. It's clearly too big for her and it falls past her thighs, but instead of feeling ridiculous, she feels protected, tucked safely in a blanket, warmth spreading through her bones. But the most remarkable thing about the shirt is not its warmth, or how soft it is - it's is the fact that it smells like him.

She shouldn't like it all that much, but she does.

"Thank you," she says in the end, her face probably crimson, her lips curved into a smile that she doesn't know how to repress. She darts a glance into his direction, and he's as red as her, his face the weirdest shade of pink she has ever seen.

He scoffs. "Don't mention it," he says, hastily, as he starts walking again, doing his best not to look at her and ignore the pink shade of his ears. "I can't have you dying from something mundane like this. I'm the only one who gets to kill you".

The thought is weirdly warming, even more than his stupid, wonderful shirt.

*

She doesn't give him his shirt back.

It's not like she's  _ keeping _ it - he never asks her for it, so it just lies in her drawer, on top of her things, folded nicely and perfectly buttoned up. Sometimes she stares at it, brushing her fingers against the ever-warm enchanted fabric, and she thinks of his stupid face, the stupid blush on his cheeks, the stupid way his ears had turned red when he had handed her the garment.

She doesn't smile at it, she doesn't. But she lifts the corner of her lips up for a moment, anyway, and her heart flutters in her chest.

*

It turns out that when Ben said he had to get at Luke's anyway, he meant it for, like,  _ ever _ , because he's always around and Rey is slowly going crazy.

He's there when she decides to make pancake in the morning, he's there when she tries to remember her spells and her magic circles, and corrects her pronunciation and her runes at every chance he's got, he's there when she comes back from Poe's café, sitting on her couch and welcoming her home with one of his hesitant smiles, before he starts teasing her about something, wiping that gentle smile off his face in an instant.  

She doesn't know why he's even here all the time and she can't decide if she likes it or not. She tells herself she doesn't, but it doesn't seem to be working, because her heart starts beating faster everytime she finds him there, sitting at her table, his head propped on a hand and a smile on his lips, ready to tell her something stupid, and it's so weirdly  _ domestic _ . She wonders what it would be like, to wake up everyday with Ben Solo in her kitchen, with his stupid crooked smile and his stupid shining eyes, and his stupid hesitant jokes.

She tries not to think about it too much.

"What are you doing here all the time?" she asks him, one day, as she’s putting away her favorite mug in the sink. Ben is currently perched on a chair, staring at her with the usual smile that seems to have taken hold of her thoughts recently. "Don't you have, like, your own place? I thought you hated your uncle and me and ... well, basically any other living being on this planet".

He laughs, quietly - such a gentle, hesitant sound. "Maybe I just like your couch".  

She snorts, turning into his direction and tilting her head just slightly, as if to study him, when in reality she's just studying the way his face breaks into his stupid, teasing smile, making her heart twist pleasantly in her chest.

"Maybe you just like to make my life a living hell," she quips, but her words lack their usual resentful undertone, almost as if she didn’t really believe it. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then-

"Maybe I just like you".

It's immediate. She's bringing the mug to the sink when he says that, and before she realizes it, the mug has slipped from her fingers and landed on the floor with a earth-shattering sound in the sacred silence of the kitchen. The shards fall at her feet, but she's too stunned to even react, her gaze fixed on Ben’s face as if to catch every single fleeting expression passing on his features. 

Ben doesn't hesitate - he jumps from his seat and, without even missing a beat, before she can even process his actions, he's right in front of her, his hands delicately curved around her arm, as if to reassure himself she's unharmed. She can almost  _ feel _ his frantic heartbeat as he bends down to study her skin, his magic pulsing in panic around both of them.

Absent-mindedly, she curves her fingers around his wrist in a soothing gesture. “I'm okay,” she tells him, quietly. Her chest feels heavy, and her fingers are electrical, where they brush against his skin. She tries to shake this - whatever  _ this _ is - off and lets out a small, hesitant laughter. “You know, you almost had me fooled there, I believed you for a second”.

Ben's cheeks are the usual shade of crimson she has become familiar with, and he avoids her gaze, red ears peeking through his hair. “Yeah, sure,” he mutters, awkwardly. “As if”.

But still, his hand lingers on her arm, and neither of them has pulled away. A deep, meaningful silence settles over them and Rey wonders when things had started to change between the two of them and how she had missed it until now.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him, gently. His fingers are still curved around it, brushing against her skin in soft, gentle movements as if to reassure her. It surprises her to realize she doesn't want him to stop - but does it really? "Why are you here?"

"Because," he replies, with a pensive smile at the corner of his mouth. "I'm trying to do one thing right in my life".

She ponders about it for a minute, taking in the almost bitter quality to his voice, the tiredness around his eyes, the tense set of his jaw - and then she sighs. "Sometimes I think you say things just to hear yourself talk".

Surprisingly, he laughs - a deep, rumbling sound that sends her heart into utter chaos. This close, she can actually  _ feel _ it - almost as a living thing, something that resounds deep within her. Then, without a warning, his hand slides down, reaching for hers, and he strokes her knuckles with his thumb. It feels even more intimate than a kiss.

"Maybe you're right," he replies.

He pulls away with a little smile and picks up all the shards of her favorite mug. Before she can even say something, he fixes it with a wave of his hand, flashing her a small grin, then turns on his heels and going for the front door, without even uttering a word. Rey is left staring at her mug, her cheeks burning and her heart stuttering.

 *  

"Have you heard about Ben Solo?" Finn asks her, as he brings her the coffee she has ordered and the muffin she has not, but that he always brings her all the same because, apparently, both him and Poe believe she's starving herself.

She's currently sitting at her usual table, in the back of Poe's small café where she usually spends her days, scribbling magic circles over her notebook in the forlorn hope she can remember them all, and she's so focused on her task that when she raises her eyes and meets Finn's surprised gaze, it takes her a moment to understand what he's talking about.

"What? Is he okay?" she asks, before she can stop herself, even if she doesn't  _ care _ about Ben Solo at all. It's Luke, she reasons with herself. She cares about Luke, and though he acts like he's well over his dickhead of a nephew, she's pretty sure it would be devastating for him, if something bad happened to said dickhead.

And, besides, nothing can happen to Ben Solo, because she has decided she will be the one to end him once and for all.

Finn scoffs, sitting down at her table as he places her coffee and her chocolate muffin right in front of her. "Of course he's okay. He'll probably outlive us all just by pure spite," he groans, scrunching his nose in a disgruntled expression. "No, I was talking about him quitting Snoke".

Rey, who had started to dive into her muffin with enthusiasm, almost chokes on it and she has to chew her bite and swallow it down with a long sip of his coffee, before she can talk again.

" _ What _ ?" she manages to croak, staring at her best friend in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? It's all over the town, apparently he's flipped Snoke off or something like that," Finn explains, shaking his head and staring at her notebook with a pensive face, as if the magic circles she has scribbled could offer him an answer. "Man, I know nothing about magic, but he's even weirder than you'd expect from someone like him".

She gently kicks him in the shin under the table, but a giggle escapes her lips all the same, because she knows Finn means well, despite his unease around magic. She can't really blame him, after all - she'd be scared shitless of magic too, if her only example of it had been Ben Solo.

"Hey, I'm weird too," she reminds him anyway, pointing at the magic circles scribbled all over her notebook. "You know how much I hate the guy, but he can't help  _ this _ . We're born with it".

It's not like she's  _ defending _ Ben Solo - she still hates him, or at least, she despises him very much despite how much her heart tends to flutter when he's around, but still, she can't help but feel a tenuous, fleeting spark of connection every time she thinks about him, despite her better judgment. Being born with powers tends to alienate you from other people, and though Ben Solo does nothing to actually help people to  _ like _ him, she thinks she can understand him. It doesn't matter how much Finn and Poe and Rose love her - she will always be different from them, and though they all care about her, they could never understand her the way that insufferable dickhead can.

Which is why she despise him so much, she tells herself. Because he could be her friend, because she could be  _ his _ friend (and God knows he'd need a friend), but instead, they spend most of their time together just  _ fighting _ because he can't be bothered with simple things like civility.

(Even if - do they really spend their time together fighting? Rey can't remember the last time they have actually argued over something. Their retorts lack their usual bite, and they haven't tried to seriously maim each other in a long, long time and even Luke has noticed it, smiling happily as the two of them sat at his kitchen table, because, apparently, Ben Solo likes to hang out at her place now. The thought makes her uneasy, as if something had suddenly set on her chest.)

"Yeah, but you're different. You're actually likable, for starters," Finn tells her, bringing her back to reality. She giggles again, shaking her head and knowing that despite how much he loves her, he will never understand the delicate connection pulling her and Ben together even if they try to be as apart as they can be. "I don't know, Rey, he's weird. It has nothing to do with magic, maybe it's about his master. That Snoke creeps me out".

She brings another bite of muffin to her mouth. "Are you actually sure he's quitting Snoke? It seems ... I don't know, weird," she tries to reason, more with herself that with Finn. "He has spent the last, what, ten years of his life being his apprentice. Why would he leave him now?"

Finn shrugs, clearly not phased by the news as she is. "Maybe he's just learned everything that he could learn and he's going to fuck off someplace else," he offers, but Rey just bites down on her muffin, pensive. Her heart twists unpleasantly in her chest at the thought of Ben Solo fucking off someplace else, and though she'd never admit it out loud, she doesn't feel as comfortable as she  _ should _ be with the idea. "Or, maybe, you could ask him, since he has just stepped into the café".

Apparently, choking on her muffin is becoming a recurring thing today, because she has to take another big sip of her coffee to avoid her untimely death. Finn chuckles lightly at her surprised expression, but she pays him no mind as she turns her head, her eyes already glued to the tall, towering figure walking in the café, a different plaid shirt on his frame. She doesn't see him as much as  _ she _ feels him, the brush of his magic poking at hers as tides clashing onto each other, and when she meets his eyes, she knows he has already noticed her, because the corner of his lips tugs upwards in a barely-there smirk that she knows too well.

She kind of wants to erase it from his face, along with his distracting eyes and the weirdly fascinating smattering of moles on his skin and his stupid features that shouldn't really agree together but that somehow fit just perfectly, but she doesn't, because otherwise she'd have to deal with Luke telling her how wrong it is to use magic to hurt another human being. As if Ben Solo had ever had a qualm about it in his stupid, obnoxious life. As if he  _ cared _ about it.

"Why is he coming  _ here _ ?" Finn asks, sounding half annoyed, half terrified, as they both watch Ben make his way towards their table with his long stride. It's really unfair, she thinks, for him to have legs that long. Not that she has spent a good deal of their time together staring at those legs, because she hasn't, despite how nice they look.

"You're here," he says, stupidly, as he finally reaches her table. "I was looking for you," he announces, then, sounding surprised by his own words. His voice is deep, and his words are almost a rumble, and Rey is left astonished again, her eyebrows shooting up out of their own accord as she tries to make sense of his presence  _ here _ .

Before she can say anything, though, Finn jumps out of his seat and hugs the tray tightly to his chest, as if it could somehow protect him from Ben and his magic. "I'm gonna go," he announces, nervously, his eyes anxiously going from her to the dark figure standing right next to her without saying a word. "Can- Can I get you something?" he adds, turning to face Ben just slightly, as if looking right into his eyes could turn him to stone.

Rey can't really blame Finn - Ben would be frightening even without his magic. There's something in his deep eyes, broad shoulders and permanent scowl that is unsettling, a detail that she can't put her finger on but that screams  _ danger _ , like the wrong note in an otherwise pleasant melody, but her heart tightens all the same, as the memory of him talking about how Poe feared him comes to her mind.

Ben seems surprised by this turn of events and opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, with his gaze fixed on Finn (who apparently is currently regretting all his life choices). "Yeah," he says in the end, sounding shocked by his own answer. "A black coffee".

Finn looks like he wants to scoff, but he's quick to nod, hugging the tray even tighter as a shield protecting him from Ben. She's not sure Finn can actually  _ feel _ his magic, but she doesn't think it matters - Ben's presence is enough to make everyone uneasy.

A sigh escapes her lips. "Thank you, Finn," she says, as she watches her best friend nod again and disappear from sight, probably going to hide behind the counter until Ben's order is ready. She turns to face again the asshole who has decided his point in life is to torment her and who's currently sitting on the spot left empty by Finn, and shots him an angry glare. "I know you've got all this ridiculous  _ bad boy thing _ going on, but you know you could, like, thank people, every now and then?"

He looks even more surprised, as if the thought hadn't ever crossed his stupid mind, and he doesn't even have a retort for that. He just stares at her, taken aback by her words.

"Oh," he breathes out, pretty stupidly, looking like he just had the biggest revelation of his life. "Right".

His fingers nervously trace patterns on the surface of the table, his eyes fixed on her face. A blush creeps on his cheeks, turning his pale complexion pink, the tips of his ears - peeking through his hair - flushed red. He looks softer, like this - there's not even the permanent frown his face seems so fond of to harden his features, and something in her twists again, as if he had tugged at a string of her heart she didn't even know she possessed.

She sighs again, both curious and confused by his strange behavior. "What do you want, Solo? Why were you looking for me?"

Instead of replying like any sane person would, Ben Solo lets out a deep breath, lowers his gaze on her notebook and furrows his brow. "Your fire-summoning circle is wrong," he announces, but without the usual teasing tone he'd use to taunt her in a similar occasion. He states it out flatly, as if he was just talking about the weather, and Rey is left gaping at him.

" _ What _ ?"

He shakes his head. "Your circle. You drew this rune wrong, you see," he says, his fingers coming to brush against the circle she has drawn so carefully a few minutes ago. "You should draw it like this".

He grabs her pen without even asking for her permission (because of course he does), and fixes her mistake as easily as ever, the same effortlessness she's always hated about him - the confidence of someone who has grown up like this, and doesn't have to doubt about his powers because he knew from a very young age how special he was. She supposes she can't blame him if she has started to learn all about it, all about magic, so late in life, but she can't help but to hate him for it, at least a little bit, even if she knows it's unfair. He doesn't deserve it, at least not for this, but still - it's easier to hate him, sometimes.

Except she doesn't, not really.

(Not at all.)

"-see, this way the circle actually works." He's still babbling, scribbling away over her carefully drawn circles, erasing some runes and drawing others over them, his eyes glued to the page. He looks really focused and she has never seen him like this, no bite in his words but an actual urge to  _ help _ her. She wonders for a moment if she's seeing things, because this can't be happening - Ben Solo can't really be here teaching her all about runes just because he felt like it. "Runes are a very difficult thing to remember, so don't worry about it. I mean, it took me, like, years to fully remember them all so it's okay if you get them wrong at the beginning. I just-"

"Ben," she interrupts him. It's the first time she has ever used his name, and she whispers it softly, almost as a sacred word on her lips. He's so shocked by this that he abruptly stops talking about runes and magic and stares at her in disbelief, the pen hanging from his fingers, forgotten by now. She wants to laugh at his stunned expression, but she doesn't, because the moment feels almost - almost  _ holy _ . "What are you doing here?"

He breathes in, then out, glancing at his hands as if the words were written there. His fingers tremble slightly, and the pen falls back on the table, but he doesn't seem to mind, and he does nothing to hide the tremor in his hands, which makes her heart twist again, for unknown reason.

"I just wanted to tell you," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "You were right".

She can't keep her eyes off him, and he must have noticed, because his cheeks turn even pinker, and he glances her way with a small, uncertain smile on his lips, and she can't make sense of what is happening, but - it's not unpleasant.

Not unpleasant at all.

It feels so easy to smile back, and it should scare her, but it doesn't, because it feels natural, as if somehow they had always meant to be like this - warm and affectionate with each other.

"I'm always right," she tells him, with a cheeky grin which should be out of place in a conversation with Ben Solo, but somehow it's not. "You should be more specific".

He exhales loudly, his shoulders trembling from the effort of not laughing out loud, and he looks nice like this - his deep eyes are gentler, and the way his lips curve upward into another smile makes her heart skip a few beats, even if she doesn't know why. The smile transforms his features and makes him look even younger like this, a boy who's staring at her in wonder, as if she was made of stars, and Rey wants to cry, because nobody has ever looked at her like that, like she's the reason for the whole universe to exist. The fact that is Ben Solo who is currently worshipping her with his gaze makes it even more unbelievable, but also terribly right.

"You were right about Snoke," he says, in the end, shrinking into his shoulders as if he wanted to disappear, his eyes never leaving her face. "You were right about  _ me _ . I just wanted you to know that - and that I'm quitting Snoke. That's why I was always hanging around Luke's place".

The surprise is so violent she doesn't know what to say for a few minutes, and her heart starts beating even faster as his words settle into her mind. "Wait-” she says, her voice trembling on her lips “You're quitting Snoke because of what  _ I _ said?"

He lets out a low, breathy laughter, which turns to be even more pleasant than his smile, and Rey is left gaping again, because she's not sure the man in front of her is actually the Ben Solo she has known for all these months.

"Is it so hard to believe?" he asks her, in the end. 

He doesn't wait for her to reply, though, and shakes his head again, chasing down a thought. He twists his hands, balling them into fists, his knuckles white from the effort, and something deep within her soul urges her to stretch out her hand and curve it around his, brushing her thumb against his skin as if to soothe him, a magic spell known to her only. She doesn't, though. It feels all very fragile, and she doesn't know how to act around this weird, delicate man in front of her. 

"For a very long time, I thought that Snoke was exactly what I deserved, that his-" He falters for a moment, then lets out a shuddering breath. "-his  _ cruelty _ was all that I could get out of life. So, thank you, I guess. For making me realize that even hopeless cases like me deserve better".

This time, when a voice inside her mind tells her to take his hand, she doesn't try to fight it. She stretches out her hand, and rests it atop of his, curving her fingers gently around his wrist, and marveling at the beauty of his heartbeat underneath her fingertips. Luke has always told her blood magic is the most powerful of them all, and for a moment she understands why - because the feeling of his heartbeat, pulsing just beneath her skin, is almost intoxicating and she gasps at the contact, as if their magic had merged together, making her feel  _ whole _ for the first time in her life.

He looks surprised, and stares down at her hand as if she had just burned a hole on his skin, but her touch is gentle, and her thumb brushes against his knuckles in slow, tender movements, and she knows, by the way his breath catches on his lips, that he feels it too.

"You're not a hopeless case," she tells him, softly, never taking her eyes off him. "You never were. You do deserve better, Ben. I'm just- I never thought you'd listen to  _ me,  _ of all the people. I thought you hated me".

He shakes his head and he looks so intensely earnest her heart feels on the verge of bursting. "I never hated you," he replies, just as softly, as if they hadn't spent the last thirteen months of their life fighting each other and shouting horrible things at each other's face. "I guess I'm really fucking bad at this but - I never hated you, Rey. I let Snoke poison my mind and twist me and make me think you were supposed to be my enemy instead of-"

Her breath catches in her throat, and her heart stops beating for a whole minute, as she hangs from the edge of her seat. "Of?"

He glances her way, hesitantly, with the same shy smile she's starting to think he reserves for her only. "Of a friend," he murmurs, barely audible. "Of  _ something _ . Rey- fuck, I'm so bad at this, but-"

Her grip on his hand tightens as her thumb comes to brush against his knuckles again. "I know," she whispers back, smiling at him. “I know what you mean. It's okay”.

He gulps, but the smile on his face never falters.

"Thank you," he says, just as softly. It settles between them like some kind of weight and Rey is left thinking about it - the realization of what has passed between the two of them in the span of a few minutes. Then, he shakes his head, and the smirk she knows so well is back on his face, but this time it's gentler somehow. "Anyway, your runes are still wrong. Let me show you-".

A groan escapes her lips. "We were getting somewhere. Don't ruin it, Solo".

*

"Did you know about Ben?" she asks Luke, as they're walking through the small woods right behind his cottage, looking for the herbs he needs for a potion. She's following him, but she's not really here - she's absent-mindedly staring at the ocean of trees all around her, but her mind is going back to the hesitant, eager expression on Ben's face just a few days ago, as he looked at her from the other side of her table, trembling hands and a shivering heart.

Luke makes a non-committal noise, his back turned on her as he guides them both deeper in the forest. "What?"

She lets out a huff of breath, irritated. "Did you know about Ben? About him quitting Snoke?"

He doesn't stop walking, and she follows him, the deep chill of the forest seeping through her bones. The light seems almost to falter here, disappearing into the darkness in front of her, but she's not scared - she's been there many times before, and she can feel it, the pulse of old magic in the trees, in the air, in the way the forest breathes, calling to her. It feels almost like home, even more than Luke's tiny cottage, and she could lose her way there without ever getting lost. It's a weird sensation, but she likes it.

Luke lets out a deep breath, as they venture forward, kneeling every now and then to pick up some herbs she should learn how to tell apart, but that she can't be bothered to think about right now.

"Of course I knew," he replies, and she can feel the edge of a smirk in his voice, even if she can't really see his face. "He came to me when he started thinking about it, and we've discussed about his future at length".

Her heart twists in her chest, even if she doesn't exactly know why. Maybe it's the idea of Luke knowing about it before she did, or maybe it's the fact that Ben talked to Luke before he talked to her about it and she knows it's stupid, because Luke is his uncle while she's just a girl that hangs around at the place he used to live in, and that annoys the shit out of him, but she can't help but feeling disappointed at the thought.

She doesn't notice she has stopped walking until she feels Luke's gaze on her, his eyebrows arched up on his face, a curious expression on his features, as if he was studying her very soul. "He told me-" he continues, his piercing eyes lingering on her. "You were the one who actually talked him into it and convinced him to leave Snoke".

_ What? _

Her cheeks heat up almost immediately, and she averts her eyes, staring at the wildflowers at her feet as if deeply fascinated by them.

"Well," she says, shrugging, even if something in her heart goes tight at the thought of Ben caring about her opinion to the point of talking to Luke about it. Every ounce of disappointment she had felt just a minute before flies off her mind, and she feels her heart in her throat, her lips trembling from the effort of not spilling everything now and then. "Why didn't you tell me, then?"

"Because it's up to him if he wants to share it or not," Luke replies, quietly, his voice more serious than she has ever heard him to be. She knows almost nothing of his relationship with Ben - she only knows Ben has left him more than ten years ago to become Snoke's apprentice, and that since then their encounters have always been tense. But, she supposes, despite how much he tries to pretend not to think about him, Luke must care enough about Ben to be worried about him and she wonders what it means now, to see him in the place he has left a decade ago, hanging around as if nothing had ever changed. It must be weird, and painful, but also - also strangely beautiful, to see him smile again.

Then, after a few seconds, Luke's face breaks into a smirk again, and he stares at her with raised eyebrows and a knowing expression on his features. "Besides, I thought you hated him. Are you trying to tell me you actually  _ care _ about him?"

She scoffs, shaking her head. "I  _ don't _ ".

"Funny, because you have never called him Ben before," he replies, quietly, his voice echoing in the silence of the forest. Her heart stops beating for a whole minute, then starts hammering against her chest and she feels her face on fire, her cheeks probably crimson. She bites down on her tongue, cursing herself for having slipped into the domestic habit of calling him Ben in her thoughts. "Are you  _ sure _ you don't care about him?"

"I- I-" she stutters, pathetically, trying to look at everything except for her master's smug face. She can feel her cheeks turn even redder, her heart fluttering crazily against her ribcage, and she must look like the biggest idiot on Earth, but somehow she doesn't mind it so much, not when it's about Ben. She's not going to admit it out loud, but it feels kind of good, even if it means being teased by Luke. She's not sure she's ready to know what this means, but - she's not ready to let go of it either. "I'm not discussing my feelings with you!"

Luke's eyebrows shoot even higher, and the forest feels suddenly very small, almost suffocating. "Oh," he says, with a smirk, his eyes fixed on her. " _ Feelings _ . I see".

Rey has the sudden urge to flee the country and hide someplace where the shame cannot follow her. "No, you don't- I didn't- It's-" she sputters, as pathetically as before, trying her best to look as dignified as possible while blushing from here until Christmas just because Luke is implying she has  _ feelings _ for his stupid, smug, self-assured and weirdly awkward nephew. "It's not like that!"

Surprisingly, Luke's gaze is not teasing or amused when she catches it - instead, it's almost gentle, the corner of his lips tugged upward into a small, private smile that she has rarely seen on his old, wrinkled face, and for a moment she can feel his magic, twinkling softly all around them in a hopeful way. His voice is barely a whisper when he talks, and there's no mockery in his tone, but only infinite tenderness. "Isn't it?"

She stays in silence for a few minutes, pondering about it as the memory of Ben, sitting right in front of her with his hesitant smile on his lips, comes to her mind. She has begrudgingly come to accept the fact that, despite her better judgment, she  _ cares _ about Ben Solo, no matter how much she has tried to deny it, but the idea of having  _ feelings _ for him makes her shiver. And still, she can't shake the image of his eager eyes and crooked smile, the moles on his face looking like constellations against his pale complexion. In her thoughts, she connects them, drawing a star chart out of it, the urge of tracing the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones with her fingers, as if to assure herself he's real, almost burning her fingertips the way her magic does sometimes.

Her heart flutters again at the thought. "I don't know," she admits, in the end, because she doesn't really know. The only thing she knows is the fact that she feels weirdly comfortable when Ben's there, and she can't still believe it, but it's the truth. Then, she squares her shoulders and looks resolutely in front of her, her face crimson. "But I'm not talking about it with you, anyway".

She starts walking again, and Luke's voice follows her as she ventures deeper in the forest.

"For your information, this is an admission!"

*

"Hey".

It's night, as she practices the spells Luke has taught her that very day. She's splayed on her bed, her notebooks and her pen in front of her, and she's studying the dozen runes she's supposed to remember, when she hears a faint knock on the door and a whispered greeting.

When she raises her eyes, she finds Ben awkwardly standing in the doorway of her room, his tall body hesitantly leaning against the doorframe and a cup of what seems to be tea in his hands. His gaze is soft as it settles on her, and there's the smallest hint of a smile on his lips, which elicits a matching smile from her. He's wearing one of his plaid shirts, and he looks - so beautiful, so utterly  _ domestic _ like this, standing at the edge of her room with her favorite mug in his hands and staring at her with stars in his eyes, that her heart stops beating for a full second, before speeding up again.

"Hey," she replies, just as quietly, as if something louder could somehow break the spell of this sacred moment. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs, his fingers coming to grip the mug almost too tightly, as if terrified of her reaction. His magic pulses around him, both nervously and eagerly, and she wonders what she feels like, right now - if he can read the same eagerness in her magic, if he knows how fast her heart is beating right now and what he thinks about it.

"I was downstairs, talking with Luke about my future ... and I've realized I have not annoyed you yet today, so ..." he says, with a lopsided smile, earning a stifled giggle from her. His eyes shine at the sound, and his magic hums, happy and wonderstruck. "Also I made you tea. I thought ... well, you drink insanely quantities of it and maybe you wanted some? Can I come in?"

She raises her eyebrows, both confused and elated, but she's quick to nod, scooting over to make space for his frankly too big frame. He presses his lips together as he sits at the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and hands her the cup of tea, which smells delicious. Rey's stomach twist, and she's not sure if it's for the tea or because he's here, in her room, in the space she has learned to feel safe in. He had never ventured farther than the living room, and now he's here and the most surprising thing is that she doesn't really want him gone at all.

She kind of wants him to stay in her room forever. He looks good on her bed, with his broad shoulders and long legs, almost curled up on himself to fit here, and something in her heart goes tight at the sight. She wants to wrap her arms around his chest and hide her face in the crook of his neck as she asks him to stay, but she doesn't because she's not even sure she can.

"You know," he murmurs, again, bringing her back to reality as she curves her fingers around the mug. His eyes skim over her, then he looks away, studying the painted walls and the mess of notebooks and pens lying around. His lips tug upward, and it feels more warming than the tea she's quietly sipping. "This used to be my room, when I lived here".

_ Oh _ .

"Oh," she says, stupidly. Then, she feels her throat go tight, and the next few words have to fight their way out of her lips, because she suddenly can't remember how to speak. Her stomach drops, and she feels like a bucket of ice-cold water had just been dropped over her head and,  _ of course _ . "You'll want it back, of course, now that you've left Snoke. Give me a few days to find a new place and I'll pick up all my things and-"

She doesn't ever get to finish that sentence, because he brings his hand on her knee, and the words falter on her tongue as his skin meets hers, electricity sparking in the place where they connect.  

"What?  _ No _ !" His eyes are huge, and his lips are parted, and he looks genuinely upset, as if she had just driven a knife right into his heart. Waves of confusion roll off him and his thumb strokes the bare skin of her thigh, gently, as if to soothe her, effectively rendering her speechless. "Rey, no, I don't want it back. This is your room, this-" He gestures vaguely, as if to encompass the whole house. "This is your home. I was just ... trying to make conversation. Sorry, I'm pretty bad at it, apparently".

Oh. Right. She feels suddenly very stupid, and she buries her face into the mug, taking another sip of tea and letting the hot beverage warm up her frozen insides, not daring to catch his eyes because she's afraid of what she may read into them. He moves the hand away, and she can't see his face, but she can feel the awkwardness in his movements, in his magic, in the way he clears his throat.

"So," she starts, hesitantly, because she has left Jakku years ago, but Jakku has not quite left her, no matter how hard she tries to forget it. "You're not kicking me out?"

He looks positively  _ outraged _ , his magic flaring up to life, and he leans in, his hand inches away from her knee again. She can feel, in his magic, the way his fingers itch to touch her - to calm her, to reassure her, to soothe her the way he only can and she knows he knows, somehow. He might not know her whole story - the way she feels like everything she's got is always temporary, something she has to let go eventually, something that will break her heart in the end - but he knows the way she feels, and he's trying to soothe her in his own special, awkward, considerate way. She scoots closer, without saying a word, and he lets out a deep breath, fisting the sheet beneath his palm as if to calm himself.

"No, I'm not kicking you out. This is your place," he says, gently, despite the strain in his magic, the urge to wrap his arms around her and tuck her safely against his chest. She feels dizzy from all of this, and she wonders how much he knows she feels it, and how much he doesn't. "Besides, I'm not coming back here. We're good now, but I'm not going to be Luke's apprentice again, I'm going to learn on my own".

Despite her better judgment, she flashes him a small smile. "So, you can say you're going ...  _ Solo _ ?"

He lets out a pained groan, and throws his head back, pretending to be annoyed by her pun, but she can feel the way he's holding back his laughter, the way his lips tug upwards in a smile, the effort it takes him to stifle a giggle.

"Please, don't ever say that again".

It feels easy to poke him at his side, and he lets her do it, letting out a deep, warm chuckle that makes her heart stutter in her chest.

"I can't promise you that," she replies, with a cheeky grin, and he groans again, pained. Then, she lets out a trembling breath and asks him the question that's been nagging at her this whole time. "You're going to stay, right? You're not going away?"

He doesn't lose his smile, but it turns softer, gentler - a quiet little thing that has her captivated. "No, I'm not going away," he murmurs, so surely, and his deep voice soothes her, calming the anxious thought chasing themselves down her mind. "Why, would you miss me?"

She scoffs, hiding her face in the mug. "As if," she replies, feeling her cheeks heating up. She catches his gaze, and he has not stopped smiling, his eyes shining so pleasantly in the warm light of her room, little web of lines at their corners and her heart twists again. "I just thought it could get boring without someone to curse every now and then".

His laughter is as deep as she remembers, and it's still surprising and awe-inspiring as the first time she has heard it. It never cease to amaze her, the way he lets himself loose in front of her - the way he has always done this, from the very beginning, even when they were just fighting and constantly threatening each other. And what surprises her the most is the notion of having done just the same - of having stripped away of her armor from the very start, letting herself be vulnerable in his presence.

Maybe it was automatic - after all, it's hard to hide something when you can feel someone so deeply within yourself. But she realizes it has less to do with magic and more to do with Ben.

"I suppose you're right," he says, in the end, pleasantly breathless from the laughter. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing away a few strands, and she smiles too, aching to know how soft his hair is and how he'd react if she started threading her fingers through it. Would he pull away? Would he stay? Would he  _ purr _ ? "What would life be without someone to annoy, after all?"

She chuckles, quietly, shaking her head. "So," she starts, pressing her lips together and fighting the urge to just lean in and run her hand through his soft strands. "How's life as a free man?"

A deep breath slips past his lips, and his shoulders slump a little bit, as if deflated. A flash of something crosses his face, but it's too quick for her to put a name to it, and he sighs again, throwing his head back in the usual childish gesture she has learned to love.

"I don't know. I guess it's scary," he replies, his voice a lot quieter and way more serious than before. His eyes are fixed on his hands, and he looks pensive and terrified, as if the thought of being the master of his own fate scared him more than everything else. "I have never had this much freedom in my life since ... well, since Snoke happened and I'm not actually sure I should be trusted with it. What if I fuck up again? What if-"

She finally leans in, placing a hand on his thigh, her fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans, as if to pull him away from his thoughts and anchor him to the present. "You won't," she tells him, surely. "It's going to be alright, Ben. You're going to be fine".

His gaze, when she catches his eyes, is full of awe and astonishment, something that speaks of devotion in the back of that deep, warm brown she can't stop thinking about. "How can you be so sure about me?"

"Because I know you a little bit by now," she replies, gently. Her thumb strokes his knee the same way he has done a few minutes before, and he inhales sharply and shivers in her touch, trembling with eagerness. His magic feels like energy, crackling and burning the edge of her consciousness in a pleasant way. "And I know you're going to be fine".

A faint, self-deprecating chuckle comes out of him. “You give me way more credit than I deserve”.

“No,” she tells him, quietly. Her fingers dig into his jeans and her heart aches, thundering away against her ribcage. She has to fight off the urge to hold out her arms and wrap him in her embrace, planting a kiss to his forehead and soothing him. “No, surprising as it sounds, you've earned this”.

Another sharp breath, a minute of silence that prolongs itself to infinity in her mind.

"Rey, I know-" His eyes skim over her again, and his words falter on his lips, as his eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Is that my shirt?"

_ What _ , she thinks, surprised by this sudden change of subject, as she lowers her gaze and she's met with red plaid. Then, she feels her cheeks on fire as she glances up, and she's sure her face must be as red as the shirt she's currently wearing, which belongs very much to Ben. Or at least it did, before she pretty much stole it.

"Yeah," she says, in the end, with a feeble voice. "It's your shirt".

Despite the obvious upper hand he has here, he doesn't seem to be better off - he's just as red as she is, and he swallows a couple of times, fidgeting with his hands in the process. She's acutely aware of the fact that she has still a hand pressed on his thigh, but she can't actually force herself to pull away, and her heart starts beating faster as his gaze settles on the fingers currently resting on his knee.  

"I, uh," he says. Then, he closes his mouth, staring at her with an unreadable expression that's making her more nervous than usual. He opens his mouth again, looking like he has just seen a ghost. "I actually thought you had burned it in a cleansing ritual to get rid of my toxic presence. Fuck, Rey. You  _ sleep _ with it?"

It's not like it was  _ deliberate _ , she tells herself. It's not like she has put on the shirt because it was his or because it smelled like him or who knows what other reason. She has found it in her drawers and it was warm and nice and soft (and it smelled like him even after weeks) and why is there supposed to be an explanation? It's just a shirt, it doesn't mean anything.

Except, maybe it does.

She places the mug on her bedside table, trying to look at anything except for Ben, which is kind of a challenge, since he's so big he seems to crowd her whole room, almost compelling her to stare at him.

"Don't flatter yourself," she tells him, in the end, with her cheeks on fire, not daring to catch his eyes. "It's not about you. I only wear it because you enchanted it and it's always warm".

His magic hums around him, but he stays in silence for a couple of minutes, and Rey wishes she had never put on the fucking shirt in the first place, because this silence is unbearable and she'd rather set herself on fire than having to stand like this.

"Well, I ... I like it," he says, with a voice that doesn't quite sound like his own and that has Rey jump on her spot, because it's so  _ deep _ and  _ rough _ and  _ rumbling _ and it makes her shiver even if the shirt should always keep her warm thanks to his spell. "You look ... beautiful in it".

She raises her head so fast she neck hurts, but she pays it no mind, because all she can focus on is Ben - his hesitant expression, his reddened cheeks, his deep brown eyes and the awkward smile on his face and -

_ Oh _ . His magic hums again around him and she can  _ feel _ it, the hammering of his heart in his chest, the way his palms are sweating, the tightening of his throat, the way his words seem to be lost somewhere between his mind and his lips and it all makes so perfect sense that she feels dizzy from it, a realization that shakes her to the core.

"You ... you think I look beautiful?" she asks, quietly, as she slowly scoots even closer, her legs brushing against his. He swallows, as his eyes fall on the bare expanse of her thighs, and his ears turn even redder under her gaze and oh, she's been so stupid, so fucking hopelessly gone without even realizing it from the very first day and oh, oh,  _ oh. _

He must have felt it too, because he swallows again and stretches out his hand, hesitantly, his fingers trembling slightly - a detail that sends her heart into utter chaos.

"Yes," he murmurs, as his hand curves around her face, cradling it, his thumb caressing her reddened cheek with tenderness. She nuzzles into his palm and he inhales, his breath ghosting on her skin. "I always think you're beautiful. Rey, I- I'm not good at this, but **-** I should have told you what I feel--"

She leans in, moving even closer, just a breath away from him, and he's so heartbreakingly  _ beautiful _ up close, a smattering of moles around his face and deep, vulnerable eyes that make her heart go tight into her chest. Without even wondering about it, she wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with his hair and tracing patterns against the portion of skin left uncovered by his shirt.

He shivers in her touch, both from wonder and anticipation, and this, more than anything else, makes her realize how much she aches for it.

"I know," she replies, sweetly. "I feel it too".

And, before she even realizes it, she's leaning in and she's kissing him, and he's kissing her and it feels like something is exploding underneath her skin, a supernova collapsing onto itself as his hands come to rest on her waist to pull her closer. His magic doesn't just brush against her anymore, but it wraps tightly around her, merging with hers, humming softly and building up just underneath her fingertips, blooming in the space between them, a heartbeat pulsing in time with theirs. Her skin feels electrical there where it touches his, her palms crackling with energy, her things trembling as one of his hand comes to brush against her skin when she settles into his lap. She nibbles at his bottom lip, and he lets out a whimper on her mouth - a sound she wants to hear again as soon as possible.

She pulls away, breathing heavily on his mouth and Ben lets out a wistful sound, something between a whine and a sigh, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

"I like you," she confesses, panting, her fingers tightening their hold on his hair as her thumb comes to brush against his jawline as she has repeatedly dreamed of doing. "It doesn't make sense and I don't know why and most of the times I just want to strangle you with my bare hands, but I like you. I like you so much". 

His face breaks in the biggest grin she has ever seen, and her fingers come to brush against his dimples, as if to study them, wonder in her heart and awe in her eyes as she takes him in. He looks even younger like this, a trembling boy with loving eyes and a beautiful smile that makes her heart shiver in her chest and she likes him so much it feels both obvious and surprising, a thought slowly blooming into consciousness like a flower bursting into bloom in the spring - quietly, wonderfully, irreversibly.

"That's good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her again, deeply, nipping at her bottom lip just as she has done a few seconds before. She lets out a small, wrecked sound and he smiles into the kiss, pulling away only to stare at her with the most tender expression on his face. There's no frown or scowl, but only a sweet, loving smile and eyes that shine like gentle flames on his face. "Because I've been in love with you for quite some time".

Her fingers trace the moles on his face just like she does in her dreams, and smiles softly, catching his gaze with an awestruck wonder in the back of her mind. "You have?"

He nods, a hand slowly drifting from her thigh to her face, cradling it with tenderness. "There was never any ritual," he confesses, with a small, uncertain smile on his beautiful lips. "I never had to ask Luke for advice, I just- I wanted to be around you”."

She raises her eyebrows, teasingly, but she can't help the broad, stupid grin on her face. “You could have  _ asked _ ”.

“As if,” he snorts, his thumb counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “I'm so bad at this I thought annoying you was a valid flirting technique. How can you expect me to ask the girl I've been in love with for a long, long time to-”

She silences him with a kiss, and he stops talking, but his magic sings for him, all around them, blooming like a whole garden, enveloping them like a blanket. They kiss for what it feels like a lifetime, his hands on her hips, her fingers in his hair, and she feels, for the first time in her life, like this is the place she belongs to.  

"Stay here?" she asks him softly, on his lips, when they part. He wraps his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck, and she doesn't even need him to reply, because his magic answers for him.

_ Of course _ .

*

"Hey." Ben greets her with a kiss to her temple, placing a mug of tea on her table as she scribbles down magic circle after magic circle. He examines her notebook with rapt attention, then - then his face breaks into his usual smirk as he leans down to whisper in her ear, "You drew that rune wrong".

She groans. "Shut up, you idiot".

His only answer is a stifled giggle and a tender, gentle kiss to her cheek.

 

**Author's Note:**

> yes, it was silly, i told you :D
> 
> also, am on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akosmia) and [tumblr](http://kylorensx.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or scream at me or tell me how stupid this was. i'm a little swamped with uni right now so i'm not always superactive on social media, but i promise i'll always reply ♥ also, there's a link to my ko-fi on my tumblr, if you want to support me so I can write more of these silly, stupid things. and that's all, see you next story and thank you so much for reading it ♥


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